


The Most Hideous Creatures Known to Man

by detectivejigsaw



Series: Flipside AU [5]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending in the last chapter, Ford Pines is not amused, Gen, Humor, If a bit shady, Pines being competitive, Stan Pines being Mr. Mystery, Stan is a good businessman, Stangst, and a great entertainer, and doing your research, both boys get a lesson in humility, but for the other side, flipside AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:41:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22191238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/detectivejigsaw/pseuds/detectivejigsaw
Summary: Stan continues to find his calling.  Unfortunately, not everyone agrees with his methods.Hilarity ensues.
Relationships: Ford Pines & Stan Pines, Stan Pines & Creatures of Gravity Falls
Series: Flipside AU [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1587223
Comments: 107
Kudos: 230





	1. A three-hour tour

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, I know this is less frequent than my usual updates to this 'verse. It's just, I've been traveling a lot recently, and came down with a nasty bug that I'm still kind of recuperating from. And tomorrow I'm going to do even more traveling.  
> (Long, drawn-out groan)  
> Vacations are exhausting.

It was only a matter of time before Stan’s clientele in the forest (he’d set up in a glen near C-beth’s place as his unofficial barber shop) began expressing curiosity about the human world.

For all the myths and legends about the amount of time they were supposed to spend kidnapping children, seducing adults, casting spells on farmers’ crops and so on, the creatures in Gravity Falls had surprisingly little direct interaction with humans. Even the gnomes were mostly limited to stealing food from their cupboards or window sills while they were sleeping, except when they were trying to find an offering for their queen (both of the Pineses had made it adequately clear to the little group they found sneaking into ~~their~~ Ford’s house one night that they were _not_ available, thank you anyway).

Stan wasn’t sure if this ignorance was the case for anomalies all over the world or just the ones in this tiny part of it. But as he cut their hair, cleaned and polished their scales and massaged their shoulders, they began peppering him with questions about what it was like for human people.

“How do you get anywhere without wings?”

“What’s it like not having gills?”

“Where do the magic lights in your houses come from? Do you have a wizard who controls all of them? You have a lot of them, so he must be _ever so_ powerful.”

“What is the significance of those strange boxes humans hold up to their ears sometimes? They can stand and talk to them for _hours_ -are they some kind of listening insects, since they have those long antennae attaching them to the bigger boxes?”

He answered their questions as best he could, making educated guesses (or maybe kind-of-sort-of flat-out lying) if he didn’t know the answers...but after a while he realized that it didn’t seem to matter what he told them, as long as he made it sound exciting. The creatures ate it all up in delight, amazed at the way humans seemed to use this strange kind of magic called SCIENCE to make things happen.

And just like with the idea for how to get unicorn hair for his brother, an idea began to spark in Stan’s brain.

“So, let me get this straight,” Stan said one afternoon as he finished putting curlers in a beard cub’s fur, “None of you have actually seen a human up close besides me?”

 _“And that brother of yours,”_ C-beth whinnied, looking up from her copy of _Whinny, Pray, Trot_ . _“And the occasional visitor to my glen, or hikers, or-”_

“No no no, I mean, you’ve never seen humans in their natural habitat.”

The little group-unicorns, fairies, beard cubs, even a mermaid sitting in the nearby pool-all looked at him in sudden interest.

Stan grinned. “What would you say if I offered to give you guys a guided tour?”

Of course, not all the creatures could afford to pay in gold and jewels, like the unicorns. Those who couldn’t had to pay in other things, like samples: skin samples, hair samples, feather samples, tooth samples, any kind of samples they could spare. Stan would bring them home for Ford to study, and he’d get dizzy with excitement over how he’d “been wanting to study this thing for _ages_ , _thank you_ Stanley!” and immediately run off to his lab to put it under a microscope or whatever. It gave Stan a warm feeling in his gut, knowing that he’d given a valuable contribution to his brother’s research, and in the meantime he could use the treasure the unicorns gave him to handle other expenses, like the mortgage and groceries and stuff.

If it wasn’t samples, it was things like mushrooms, which he could then give to the gnomes in exchange for favors, or enchanted items, or whatever else could be used to set up an elaborate and profitable barter system.

It was like nothing Stan had ever imagined for himself, but somehow it all _worked_ like a charm. And now here was a perfect chance to make an addition to it.

_If I tell Ford about this, he’s either gonna love it or hate it._

* * *

For the moment, Stan decided to keep it a secret from his brother. At least until he got all the details worked out and stuff.

This required him first finding a map of Gravity Falls, and marking out places that seemed like the best “attractions.” Then he had to think about how he was actually going to conduct these tours a) without any humans noticing, and b) without letting the group of nosy anomalies wander off and get into trouble, or (in some cases) cause trouble.

It took him the better part of a day to come up with a plan, which turned out to partially involve the, ahem, _liberation_ of a very large golf cart from a nearby Santa’s Village, and a pound of jerky for the manotaurs in exchange for them tracking down the invisible wizard and bringing him to Stan so he could strike a deal with him. To his major disappointment the wizard refused to give up the potion that turned him invisible, but he did lend Stan something that was in some ways even better: a few bottles of what he called “un-notice powder.” I hope I don’t need to explain its purpose.

Once he had these and a few other things thrown together, he was ready to take the first group on a wild tour of...the Human World!

“And on your left, you’ll see ‘Greasy’s Diner,’ home of the perpetually broken spinning pie trolley!”

“Oooohhhh!” The various anomalies leaned so far to the side of the cart that Stan was worried they were going to tip them all over, staring goggle-eyed at the restaurant. To prevent this, Stan hurriedly put the cart in park, and then, remembering what the gnomes were like, he slipped the keys into his jeans pocket.

“Twenty-I mean, two hundred gold pieces or the equivalent in samples to come in and get your picture taken with it!” he proclaimed, rushing over to the door and pushing it open. He promptly had to jump out of the way to avoid being stampeded by the eager crowd.

Inside the diner, the guests looked up in bewilderment at the door, which appeared to have been pushed open by a sudden freak wind. Susan Wentworth, the head waitress who worked there (and who was kinda cute, Stan had to admit), rushed over to close it, and Stan barely moved out of her way in time.

The tour group (ten gnomes, thirteen fairies of various sizes and colors, a Moth Man, the invisible wizard-who’d insisted on coming at a reduced price as recompense for his being manhandled and bullied so rudely, and Stan had decided not to argue with a man who could turn him into a frog if he got mad enough-a manotaur, and the mermaid, who the manotaur was carrying in a portable cooler filled with water) stared agape at the inside of the room, before hurrying over and taking turns being photographed in front of the pie trolley. They also had fun prodding at the humans, swiping bites of food from their plates, and taking pictures of them pretending to squeeze their heads or whatever.

Stan watched the chaos with a smile, and took the opportunity to eat some blueberries off the top of a plate of pancakes belonging to that dumb Gleeful kid.

* * *

Their next stops were the town hall, the cemetery (where a few Category 2 ghosts tried to sneak on without paying, but were scared off by the silver mirrors Stan had strategically placed on the cart), the library, and the high school, before finally they stopped in front of an electronics store.

“Behold!” Stan leaped out onto the sidewalk, arms spread wide. The dramatic gesture was nearly ruined by a few teenagers who nearly walked right into him (because of course, they didn’t notice him), but he managed to dodge out of their path just in time. “Ladies and gentlemen-I guess that includes most of you-”

The tour group laughed.

“-For today’s final attraction, I give you the most horrifying, dangerous, yet incredibly enticing invention of mankind yet: the Idiot Box!” He gestured at the display of televisions in the front window, which were plugged in to different channels about news, sports, movies, and so on.

The anomalies gasped, staring at the images darting across the screens in transfixed amazement. He could practically see their eyes turning into hypnotized spirals like in the movies.

“These fiendish devices control the minds of millions every day, encouraging them to buy things they don’t need, eat foods that aren’t good for them, and become emotionally invested in the lives of fictional characters who they are never gonna meet in real life!” Stan had no idea where most of his words were coming from, but he was on a roll now, and there was no stopping him. “And all it takes is a little bit of electricity and a good channel-”

“I WANT ONE!”

Stan blinked, startled out of his spiel by the manotaur’s roar.

The beast abruptly hurled himself out of the cart and charged-right. Through. The window. He smashed several of the televisions in his excitement, but he managed to snatch one up intact, ripping the plug out of the socket and hoisting it over his head triumphantly.

Not even un-notice powder was enough to prevent the people inside the store from noticing the wanton destruction.

_Time to go._

* * *

Fortunately, Stan managed to herd everyone (several of the other creatures had rushed into the store to snatch devices for themselves in all the excitement) back into the cart and take off before the cops showed up. Even better, the un-notice powder didn’t completely wear off until they were back in the forest, so even if the townsfolk noticed them fleeing the scene, it wouldn’t have been anything too distinct. Probably.

Stan gladly accepted a few extra tips from the happy group as they left the carts, hurrying off into the forest and chattering excitedly to each other about all the things they’d seen.

“See ya later, everyone! Tell your friends! And remember, we put the ‘fun’ in ‘no refunds!’”

_Huh; I like the sound of that. Gonna haveta remember it for next time._

Grinning to himself, Stan finished putting everything in the large treasure chest he’d brought to collect everyone’s payments, locked it, and then drove back towards home, feeling that on the whole this had been a pretty good day.

It was just his luck, however, that Ford would be standing in the driveway as he came up, hands on his hips and wearing his “there had better be an _amazing_ explanation for this” expression.

The cart came to a slow stop, and Stan gave his brother a weak smile.

“...Hey, Sixer. I got you more samples.”


	2. ...Things escalate

“So, tell me, Stanley.” Ford paced in front of his twin, hands behind his back, bearing an unfortunate resemblance to their dad whenever he was p_ssed at Stan for something or other. “When you decided to gather a group of anomalies from the forest, take them to town in a stolen golf cart, and have them treat the people who live there like an interactive tourist attraction-”

He whirled around, and his voice rose to its loudest possible volume.

“- _did you think at all about the possible CONSEQUENCES?!?!_ ”

“...You make it sound so much worse than it was,” Stan said after a second. “I’m pretty sure we got away before anyone saw us.”

“That is _not_ what I’m talking about, and you know it!” Ford strode to the television and turned it on. “Get a look at this!”

Stan squinted at the screen. “ _Help! My Mummy’s a Werewolf_?” He grimaced. “Eesh, the television here is terrible.”

Ford made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat and went to the armchair to dig around for the remote.

Eventually he found a repeat of the news broadcast he’d seen earlier that had alerted him to this whole mess in the first place.

“Downtown Gravity Falls was alarmed today by a freak breaking and entering at the Spark-N-Save electronics store, resulting in the destruction of several televisions and numerous items being stolen by unknown individuals.”

The camera zoomed in on the shattered window.

“Strangely,” said the reporter lady, “witnesses were unable to give a concise explanation for who or what was responsible.”

The screen changed to an interview with a lady who Ford vaguely remembered was named Mrs. Cutebiker.

“There was nobody there, I tell you! The window smashed open all by itself! I don’t know _what_ happened, but I knew I had to git out-git outta there!”

Another interview was with a few teenagers who appeared to just be thrilled about being on television, and were milking the opportunity for all it was worth.

“It was a group of aliens! They flew down and vaporized the window so they could steal the electronics inside!”

It _was_ remarkably close to the truth, Ford thought.

“Uh, dude,” a friend of the one speaking whispered, “the window was smashed, not vaporized.”

He turned and punched him in the arm. “Shut up, man, this is my big moment on television!”

“It’s probably the Russians!” snapped the next interviewee, an old man in grimy overalls. “I’m tellin’ you, those Ruskies have probably set up a secret base in that crazy new-fangled mall!”

The screen changed back to the reporter.

“Investigation is ongoing, according to local police.”

In the background, a chubby black deputy with an afro tapped a meaty finger against the remains of the window, before jumping back with a screech.

“AAAAGH, it cut me! I’m bleeding to death! Man down! Man down!”

He collapsed to the ground, clutching his finger with his other hand and rocking back and forth in an extremely immature way.

The reporter visibly refrained from rolling her eyes.

“And now for the weather.”

Ford switched off the television and gave Stan a pointed glare.

* * *

“...So things got a little out of hand,” Stan admitted. “But the people around here are literally some of the dumbest in the world, they’re probably not gonna figure out what really happened. And even if they do, what’s the big deal? You’re the one who’s big on making the truth about anomalies known to the world. Isn’t that what your grant money’s for?”

Ford growled.

“Putting aside the fact that there are far less dangerous and irresponsible ways of introducing the supernatural to humanity, you are also teaching the supernatural bad habits! Breaking and entering, theft, damage, vandalism-”

“Ya mean like the gnomes and Steve were already doing long before we came here?” Stan asked challengingly.

“That’s not-ugh!”

“Okay, I get it, I’ll be more careful next time.”

“NEXT TIME?!”

* * *

Ford tried unsuccessfully to forbid it.

Stan argued that a) it brought some extra money in, b) now that he’d learned about potential problems it would be easier to prepare for them, and c) it wasn’t Ford’s decision to make anyway.

Ford countered that it _was_ his decision if Stan was being reckless enough that people were being put in danger.

Stan pointed out that nobody had actually been hurt in the incident, and that he shouldn’t judge the tour when he hadn’t even been on one.

...Which is why the next morning had Ford, sitting with arms folded like a sulky child, in the passenger seat of the golf cart next to Stan, as the second group of excited monsters, anomalies and cryptids drove into town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Evil grin*  
> This oughta be good.


	3. Throwing down the gauntlet

At first, Stan was enjoying himself even more the second time around. He’d had time to figure out his routine better: what jokes to make at which moments, which “attractions” would gain the most interest from his audience-heck, he’d even found an old red fez which Ford had lying around in the attic for some reason and put it on to identify himself as the man in charge of this gig. The weird fish symbol on the front identified it as once belonging to Pa, but Stan decided he liked it anyway.

The only stick in the mud was, of course, Ford.

He retained his scowl pretty much the whole time, even when he saw that Stan had attached signs charging the guests extra for any items they brought back with them (he referred to them as “carrying fees”), and showed off the un-notice powder he’d been given by the wizard. And to make matters worse, when the tour actually began he spent the whole time trying to correct Stan’s explanations for what the monsters were seeing-under his breath at first (which was a little annoying but nothing Stan wasn’t used to), but getting progressively louder as his claims got more ridiculous.

Once again Stan drove up outside Greasy’s, “...home of the perpetually broken-down spinning pie trolley!”

And again, the monsters in the back stared in awe at the trolley, which was in plain view through the diner window.

“Why’s it always broken?” piped up a little dwarflin (dwarf-goblin hybrid; marginally more manageable than the gremloblin, but not by much) sitting in the back.

Stan twisted around, stretching his mouth into as unnaturally large of a grin as possible.

“ _ Nobody really knows _ .”

Ford cleared his throat. “Actually, it’s because the lady in charge of the establishment never bothers-oof!”

Stan removed his elbow from his twin’s midriff and hopped out, heading for the door and flinging it open.

“Two hundred pieces of gold or the equivalent in samples to get your picture taken with it!”

Again, he barely dodged the stampede in time.

Ford straightened up in annoyance. “Stanley, there is a perfectly logical explanation for why that pie trolley is always broken-”

“And they’re not really interested!” Stan growled. “They’re just here for the novelty of the experience!”

“That dwarflin was interested! He actually asked how it worked!”

“Whatever.” Stan stomped into the diner; he had tourists to fleece.

* * *

He felt a little bad about brushing Ford off like that once he’d taken a second to calm down. Maybe the dwarflin had wanted a genuine answer about why the pie trolley didn’t work; and besides, he knew his brother didn’t like leaving other people’s questions unanswered, he was just trying to help. And maybe flaunt his superior knowledge a little, but he probably wasn’t doing it to be hurtful. Stan might’ve overreacted.

And while it would’ve meant throwing in the towel in their argument, he would have admitted all this to Ford after the tour ended...had Ford not almost immediately continued trying to destroy the tour.

He began correcting Stan out loud on the smallest errors in description, and once or twice even on his grammar.

By the time they pulled up in front of the Spark-N-Save, Ford’s ribs and Stan’s elbow were both heavily bruised, and they had gotten into one scuffle over Stan’s desire to shut Ford up that nearly sent them careening off the road. It didn’t help that the monsters had appeared to find the fighting hilarious, and out of the corner of his eye Stan had seen money exchanging hands between some of them. So it was a secretly very grumpy, but still acting cheerful, Stan Pines who proclaimed the horrors of the Idiot Box to his agog audience, and ignored his brother when he muttered, rubbing his sore side, that “it’s called a  _ television _ , Stanley, for heaven’s sake you’re giving them  _ completely _ false ideas about humanity!”

This time there were no manotaurs in the group, and nobody else tried to steal from the store (which might have been more to do with Stan warning them that the Idiot Boxes were guarded by a vicious Copyright Monster who destroyed people’s lives if its treasure was stolen than anything else), so they made it back to the forest without the hassle of the day before. Stan let them know that they put the fun in “no refunds!”, and then shut the treasure chest full of payment before anyone could change their mind, and drove off.

He didn’t have to wait long before Ford started in on him.

“Stanley, you’ve gone too far this time! You’re not just endangering people by bringing these creatures into town, you’re flat-out  _ lying _ to them about everything!”

“No, I’m just puttin’ things in a way they’ll understand!” Stan snarled back. “They wouldn’t’ve listened ta me if I’d tried ta tell them about being arrested by the cops or whatever, and I ain’t sure our laws would even apply to them if I did. But they would listen when I told them a Copyright Monster who’s tougher than anything they’d ever seen would come after them if they tried ta steal his property.” He scowled at Ford. “Besides, I thought you agreed that honesty’s not always the best policy.”

Ford turned away and glared out the front of the cart. “There’s no way you can keep on making money off these people with this ridiculous farce. Sooner or later, it’s going to come crashing down around your ears.”

“Yeah, well, I’d like ta see you do a better job, Mr. High-and-Mighty!”

“Give me a chance and I will!”

The cart screeched to a halt; it was a good thing Ford had remembered to wear his seatbelt, or else he would have gone flying forward, especially since there was no windshield on this thing.

“Okay,” Stan said, tilting the fez back on his head, “I’m a wagering man.” He leaned on the wheel. “I’ll give you seventy-two hours, and a golf cart of your own, and you can take one tour group and I’ll take the other, and we’ll see which one they like better.”

Ford’s eyes widened.

“If the groups like you better, I guess you’re right about how I’m runnin’ things. But if you  _ lose _ …” Stan faltered for a second, trying to think of an appropriate punishment, before inspiration hit him, “you, uh, you have to eat a plaidypus-egg omelette!  _ And  _ you’re not allowed ta complain about or try ta stop the tours ever again!”

Stan folded his arms triumphantly; the gauntlet had been thrown down.

And after a second, Ford rose to the bait, as he’d been sure he would.

“Fine! But if  _ I _ win, then these tours stop, and if anymore cryptids want information about the human world you have to either tell them the full truth or have them come to me for a more detailed explanation.  _ And _ you have to call home and ask to talk to Pa!”

The last part almost made Stan chicken out (not that he’d ever admit that). But he clenched his jaw, and said resolutely, “You got yourself a deal, Sixer.”

“Deal,” Ford growled back.

They nearly crushed each other’s fingers with a handshake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ford and Mabel have more in common than they realize.  
> And of course, he and Stan have quite a bit in common in terms of stubbornness and occasional sheer idiocy in arguing over stupid things.


	4. Day 1-Ford

The first day of the competition dawned with the brothers Pines standing in the clearing, in front of two large golf carts which had been decorated with a number of protective spells and wards, and had large red question marks painted on the roofs (an extra decorative touch on Stan’s part).

Both of them had dressed up to the nines for the occasion: Stan had used some of his unicorn gold to actually buy himself a tailor-made black suit, complete with scarlet bow tie, and slicked his hair back off his forehead. He was also still wearing the fez, which had been brushed and cleaned to perfection, making him look like a rich carnival barker.

Ford, on the other hand, went with a nice dress shirt and slacks and (despite-or perhaps because of-Stan’s opinions) a wine red sweater vest, all under a long brown trench coat-fortunately the weather had cooled down enough that he wasn’t in danger of having a heat stroke. His own mess of curls had actually been combed as neatly as he was capable of, and he’d remembered to shave and trim his sideburns today. Tucked in his pocket were notecards to help him remember the lines he’d carefully rehearsed, and under his arm was a spare journal filled with useful notes about the doings and history of mankind.

The two men were decidedly not looking at each other as they waited for the group of tourists to come.

“Guys, come on!” Dan, who was standing next to the golf carts, said for the umpteenth time. “This is stupid! If you really wanna settle your differences, do it with something MANLY-like arm wrestling, or a caber tossing competition! There’s no need for any of this!”

Neither of them even acknowledged him.

Dan sighed, and rolled his eyes.

“I’m gonna go split a few trees into firewood with my bare hands,” he muttered, stalking off towards his truck.

* * *

No sooner had he driven off than a crowd of unique creatures came out of the woods, many of them species that neither of them had ever seen in Gravity Falls Forest before. Stan looked gleeful, probably pleased that the word about these tours appeared to have spread. Ford just adjusted his collar and went over his lines in his head again as his brother stepped up to greet them.

“Welcome, ladies and gentle-tourists, to the Tours of Mystery, where you can unlock the secrets of humanity by observing real live humans in their natural habitat! Who’s ready ta have their minds blown?!”

A blonde woman standing at the front of the crowd, wearing a pair of sunglasses perched on top of her head and a whole lot of aqua eyeshadow, burst out laughing.

“Oh man, you’re a _riot_!”

Stan’s mouth widened in his “oh man after all this time I still got it” grin. “Anything for you, gorgeous!” he told her with a wink; she simpered and giggled. Just for an instant, however, Ford thought he could make out a flash of mandibles in her mouth, and stifled a smirk.

_Stanley has no idea what he’s getting himself into flirting with her kind._

“And over on my left you’ll see Dr. Mystery, the dumbest smart person that ever lived!”

“Hey!” Ford protested, glaring.

“I’m just callin’ it like it is, doc.” Stan’s smile was unrepentant. He looked back at the crowd. “He’s gonna be givin’ the other tour today, so if you’d just form inta two groups, please-one’s gonna go with the boring tour, the other’s gonna go with _me_!”

Ford whirled on Stan. “Or, to put it another way, if you come with _my_ tour group you’ll be on the one that will give you genuine, factual information!”

The group, probably thinking this was all part of the show, laughed. But they did start splitting up and getting into the two separate carts.

Ford stood by his cart, waiting as the various monsters entered his cart, accepting their payments as they climbed in.

And then his blood ran cold as his final passenger approached: an ancient birdlike woman (literally, her arms were wings with clawed hands at the ends, and her feet were webbed like a duck’s), still handsome and straight-backed in her old age, and peering down her hawklike nose at him.

“I look forward to your little presentation, Stanford,” she said, her accent faintly Greek and clipped, and still enchanting despite the disdain behind it.

Ford groaned inwardly as the grandmother of the siren he’d briefly dated climbed into the cart, sitting in the seat right behind his.

_Great. Just great._

* * *

Ford really did not understand Parthenope. The whole time he had dated her granddaughter, she had made her disapproval of him quite clear. But she seemed to view his breaking up with her as even more of a personal insult, regardless of it being a mutual thing for them.

“Eleni is doing well,” she said icily as he drove towards the town hall.

“That’s good, Ms. Parthenope,” said Ford with an inward sigh (the sirens did not have surnames to speak of).

“She says she’s thinking of going to the Gulf of Mexico for school this fall, instead of the Mediterranean as we were expecting.”

“Mmm.”

“I suspect outside influences have affected her judgment; she never acted out like this before she dated-”

“THE TOWN OF GRAVITY FALLS was founded in 1842, supposedly by a man named Nathaniel Northwest. My research, however, has led me to the conclusion that he was not the true founder, but I have yet to discover who he replaced or why the truth has been covered up.” Ford parked, and removed some of his notes from his pocket, ignoring the old siren's outraged stare. He cleared his throat, and began reading from them.

“Part of my suspicions come from some of Gravity Falls’s more absurd laws and precedents, such as the ‘Finders Keepers’ law, in which anyone who possesses a legal document corresponding to a property can claim legal ownership of the property. As unstable and greedy as Mr. Northwest was, as exemplified by his death by attempting to eat a tree, I don’t think-”

“What’s that mean in English?” called a voice from the back; several others laughed.

“...If you can get ahold of the deed for a property, even by theft, then the property is yours.”

“Sounds good to me!” the same voice boomed; by turning around Ford saw that it was a large manotaur with a bone through his nose and muscles the size of cantaloupes. “My bro Mascular told me about this place where they have tons of magic Idiot Boxes-can we go there so I can take the deed for it?”

“No!” Ford snapped. “Those are not Idiot Boxes, they’re called televisions! And I’m not going to assist you in stealing the deed for the store!”

“But you said it was legal!”

“That doesn’t make it _right_!” He stuffed the note cards back into his pocket, seeing that the opportunity to teach them some of Gravity Falls’s history had been lost. “Next we’re going to visit the library!”

* * *

The rest of the tour was more or less the same. The manotaur kept arguing with him that he should show him where the electronics store was because he wanted easy access to Idiot Boxes, until Ford finally drove to a barbecue restaurant and let him get some ribs to shut him up. And then of course everyone else wanted some ribs too, and he had to keep track of what everyone took so he could secretly pay the owners back later.

There were members of the group who asked honest questions about the human world, and seemed genuinely interested in things like how electricity worked, or how humans got along without magic, but most of them seemed to be bored out of their minds at his explanations (he actually saw several of them falling asleep while he was describing the invention of the lightbulb).

And Parthenope’s scornful commentary in his ear the whole time didn’t help at all.

By the time Ford drove back to the forest and the tour group departed, he was mentally and physically exhausted from being around so many people.

He leaned his head against the steering wheel with a sigh, feeling a headache beginning to blossom.

_I need to up my game if I ever want to beat Stanley._


	5. Day 1-Stan

The blonde chick, who introduced herself as Darlene, made herself comfortable in the seat right next to Stan’s in the cart after he’d finished sprinkling it with un-notice powder. Had they been alone, frankly he wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d tried to sit in his lap, she was gushing over him that much.

And while he enjoyed the attention-Stan wasn’t as big of a sucker for easy flattery as Ford was, but he did enjoy having people compliment him once in a while-part of him knew a con when he saw it, and Darlene was trying to pull one on him. He wasn’t sure what it was, but something about her reminded him of...of Marilyn. Like she was playing up the flattery and flirting so much because she was planning on doing something nasty as soon as he let his guard down. So while he grinned and flirted back shamelessly, he didn’t let her get too close, and focused on giving the tour.

For the most part things went like normal; Stan brought the group of monsters to different parts of Gravity Falls to show off human stuff, playing it up as better and more impressive stuff than it really was. The tourists oohed and aahed over the diner, the Dusk 2 Dawn convenience store, even the freaking mattress store which had recently opened up downtown. They got their pictures taken in front of the Northwest mansion, and (without any encouragement from Stan, I swear) took goofy pictures of themselves with the Nathaniel Northwest statue. A large red-furred squirrel man who lived in the forest outside the mansion even climbed up onto the statue and wrote “YOU SUCK YOU STUPID TREE-CHOPPER” on his face in bright red pen (apparently the squirrel folk held a bit of a grudge against the guy who’d been responsible for chopping down the part of the forest their parents used to live in before being forced to move thanks to him). And Stan allowed him to keep the pen, in exchange for a few tufts of his tail fur.

The problem came in the form of a few tourists who actually wanted more details than Stan knew how to provide, such as what was so wrong about the Northwests asserting their dominance over the rest of the townsfolk-since to the manotaurs that was a perfectly legitimate strategy when you were bigger and stronger than everyone else-or why some teenagers wore long nightgowns and funny square hats at the end of spring. This question in particular touched Stan on the raw, and he said grumpily that the tradition of high school graduates wearing caps and gowns came from a belief that at the end of their high school education they needed to wear the caps for a full day to keep all their accumulated knowledge from bursting out the tops of their heads. Fortunately, the gnome who’d asked appeared to accept this explanation, and gave his own pointy hat a self-conscious pat.

Stan BS’d his way through difficult questions as best he could, but this crowd of out-of-towners seemed a little more skeptical than the residents.

“I live in Seattle, so I see people inside watching Idiot Boxes all the time,” said a creature that was apparently a troll; his coloring was an interesting gray, with a few yellowy patches that from a distance looked like windows. Stan guessed that it was so he could blend into the sides of office buildings. “I’ve never heard anyone call them that before-”

“Well of course they’re not gonna be _obvious_ about it!” Stan said quickly. “The usual nickname for them used by humans is ‘TV.’”

“Teevee?”

“It’s short for ‘television.’” He sighed on the inside.

“What’s a telly and why do people need a vision of it?” asked a tree nymph, her pretty face pursing in confusion.

“It comes from ancient Greek or something.” Stan barely managed not to let his tone waver with uncertainty-if he didn’t seem absolutely certain that he knew what he was talking about he was gonna lose them. He’d learned that lesson the hard way. “And that big screen on the front gives people visions of whatever they wanna see, with over a hundred options!”

Darlene gasped. “Man, you are so _smart_ , Mr. Mystery!”

Stan waggled his eyebrows. “It’s a gift, and a curse.”

* * *

It was with a surprising amount of relief that Stan drove the cart back into the forest, letting the passengers go.

_Man, I almost feel like I oughta do some research on stuff so I don’t get stumped like that again._

_...Aw crap, I can’t let Ford know I thought that. I’d never live it down._

To his relief, plenty of creatures still left tips as they exited. He was just locking up the treasure chest when Darlene put a cool hand on his arm.

“So, handsome, you wanna go for a walk?” she asked. “You seem kinda tired out after giving us such a long tour!”

 _...Right. Follow the pretty lady into the dark, scary woods-_ that’ _s not a trap at all._

Stan smiled at her innocently. “Eh, I’m more hungry than anything else. You wanna come to the diner and get a meal? You look human enough ta blend in.”

Her turquoise eyelid twitched a little. “Oh, I dunno...I am a little hungry, but I don’t think I wanna be around a large crowd of humans.” She stroked his shoulder. “I think I’d rather have it be just you and me...alone.”

_And_ it’s right about then that her eyes turned black and pupil-less, and her lower body turned into that of a giant spider.

Stan felt glad that he’d thought to keep his baseball bat under his seat; it was a cinch to yank it out and thwack her in the noggin with it, before grabbing up the treasure chest and hightailing it towards the cabin. Behind him he heard a shriek of rage, followed by the sound of eight giant feet chasing him.

He muttered some extra creative swear words as he ran, struggling to hold onto the treasure chest and wishing (for once) that the stupid forest creatures would use paper currency instead of gold, because this thing was really freaking _heavy_ and maybe it would be prudent to leave it behind, but he was d_mned if he was gonna abandon his profits-

Darlene came leaping onto him from above, having shed her human guise altogether.

Stan barely managed to put the chest between them, holding her back; unfortunately, this had the side effect of knocking the wind out of him as he hit the ground.

“Geez, lady, what’s your _problem_ ?!” he wheezed out, squirming as best he could while trying to get his breath back. “The tour wasn’t _that_ bad, was it?”

“It’s nothing personal, honey,” Darlene snarled. “I just got a real problem with your type of man, except for the fact that you taste delicious-ow!”

Stan slammed his fist into her eye again.

“You’ll pay for that!” The giant spider woman reared up, sucking in a deep breath. Stan noticed some kind of green gooey stuff gathering between her mandibles; in desperation, Stan hiked both his legs up and kicked her right in the midriff. That allowed him to finally get loose, half-staggering, half-running away. As he did, he fumbled in his coat pocket and grabbed out his last possible defense-just as something like a thick, sticky rope caught him around the ankles and sent him falling again.

Darlene stomped up to him, beady eyes glittering with rage.

“I think your tour’s gonna have a new attraction,” she hissed. “Gravity Falls’s first mummy exhibit!”

Stan didn’t bother coming up with a witty comeback; he just sat up and slashed with the switchblade.

* * *

Ten minutes later, dirty, scraped-up, bloody, and in serious need of repairs to his suit and fez after he had a shower and some food, Stan dragged the treasure chest up the steps of the porch and staggered into the house.

Ford looked up from the book he’d been reading in the living room, probably about to make some kind of cutting remark-instead, his jaw dropped in alarm.

“What _happened_?” he asked.

“I got a disgruntled customer who probably won’t be comin’ back anytime soon.” As Stan went past his brother to the stairs, he dropped a few items at his feet: a pile of enormous webbing, and a giant, bloody mandible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my personal belief that the only reason Stan was fooled by Darlene in "Roadside Attractions" was that he is just that lonely, and maybe looking for options for somewhere to go at the end of the summer.  
> Or maybe it's just that even a professional conman can't see through everyone all the time, and he was drawn in by easy flattery.  
> But my personal preference is the first option. And here, even though he and Ford are kind of fighting right now, Stan is still being loved and validated by someone, so he's less likely to be blinded by unhappiness. If that makes sense.


	6. Day 2-Ford

After Stan had showered and eaten, they put their respective profits for the day into two giant barrels in the basement-one marked with an S, the other with an F.

Ford had argued that this wasn’t the most accurate way in the world of judging which tour people liked better, and that they should ask them to fill out surveys at the end instead, but Stan had pointed out that nobody ever did those willingly. Since Ford had been unable to come up with any better ideas, they decided to go with counting profits, tips included.

Even after Ford stopped Stan from committing voter’s fraud by sneaking some of his own money into his barrel, his twin’s profits were still higher than his.

Ford just ignored his smirk, and carried the mandible upstairs to the freezer (he would take great pleasure in studying it and finding out how Stan got it _after_ these ridiculous tours were over for good).

Then Ford went to his room, and pondered over his notes on the day-specifically, what had gone wrong.

_It seems that large amounts of information about human subjects just bore them-which is ridiculous, since they should be eager about this chance to learn as much as possible...but maybe they don’t see it that way. It looks like I’m going to have to meet them halfway a little._

_Ugh, Stan would never let me hear the end of it if he knew I was thinking like this._

He grabbed a pen and a fresh set of notecards, and got to work.

* * *

The next day, he was relieved to see that there were no sirens, gremloblins or manotaurs in the crowd of monsters that showed up. There were, however, a few unicorns, with manes bobbed around their necks (it had apparently become the latest fashion statement for them), along with some cryptids, and a pale-skinned boy in a dark hoodie who Ford was 80% sure was a vampire. To his disappointment, the boy got into Stan’s cart, denying him the chance to study him further; he reminded himself, however, that that shouldn’t be his main priority at the moment.

Once his cart was full, he drove off towards his first destination, a place he didn’t think even Stan had thought to bring tours to.

“Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to present Gravity Falls Lake!” Ford announced, pulling up on the beach. “Where humans spend their time fishing, swimming and sunbathing, oblivious to the elusive Gobblewonker living just below the surface!”

“Oh my g_d, _that’s_ where he lives?!” an exasperated voice demanded, which turned out to belong to an ethereal-looking fairy who was, unusually for her species, wearing a postal worker’s uniform and tiny messenger bag. “I’ve spent the last _six years_ trying to bring him his mail! It keeps getting ‘RETURNED TO SENDER’ because people are putting the wrong address on, and I am so _sick_ of it! Gah!” She threw her hat on the floor of the cart in irritation.

Ford covered his mouth for a second. “Yes, the Gobblewonker is mostly to be found under the water, only venturing out on occasion to the most remote islands, far from humans. Even so, he still gets occasionally picked up on the average fish finder, or people catch glimpses of him with their-” he reached into his jacket pocket, and whipped out- “polaroid cameras!”

The tourists’ different reactions demonstrated interesting things about how they lived. Some of them gasped in awe, staring transfixed at the camera and murmuring things like “so _that’s_ what those things are!” Others were surprised that they were a human-made invention, because they’d assumed that cameras just naturally developed on park benches or back alleyways. Still other species had invented their own types of cameras, and were amazed at how primitive the human kind were. Either way, though, everyone in the cart was fascinated, and Ford even allowed a few of them to peer through the lens and point it at things (but he took a page from his brother’s book, and required an extra charge for anyone who wanted to take an actual picture). And he snuck in a few tidbits of information about people who had seen the Gobblewonker in the past, and things that were going on at the time.

When he finally moved on from the lake, he overheard some of the group murmuring to each other about having to come back and visit this spot; he smiled to himself.

_Maybe this isn’t so impossible after all._

* * *

Of course, there were still a few issues.

Ford had overestimated their levels of interest in certain things, as well as how much he would have to explain (some of them didn’t even know how cars worked); despite this, he saw less general sleepiness in everyone, and significantly more overall interest. And at least today there were no manotaurs in the cart, so he didn’t have to worry about anyone asking to steal deeds to electronic stores or invade the biker bar.

The _piece de resistance_ came at the end, when as they were leaving, Ford produced a set of hand-made brochures for whoever wanted them, giving a few paragraphs on electricity, motor vehicles, and human culture, since those were the things that tourists seemed to ask about the most. Not everyone took one, but enough did that Ford was pleased. And he was even more pleased when several extra tips were added to the treasure chest on the seat next to him. As he drove back home, he even found himself humming happily, and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

...It was almost a shame that he wanted this project shut down; on days like this it actually seemed kind of-

_No! Focus on why you started this in the first place: beating Stan because it’s all just a big joke to him!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it seems like Ford might be learning how to be a good tour guide after all.
> 
> ...But what does this mean for Stan, I wonder?
> 
> P.S. In case anyone cares, tomorrow (January 18th) is my birthday.


	7. Day 2-Stan

Stan was up late that night with a few books (sneaked out of the library once Ford was sufficiently distracted) on various human-related subjects, scrawling out a few notes in between stitching up the rips in his suit. He also borrowed Ford’s journal, and made some notes for himself on a few different species.

_And Ma used ta say that men can’t multitask._

The next morning, he slipped his brass knuckles into his pockets, along with a few extra protective charms and both his switchblades, and put on his newly-patented “Mr. Mystery” smile for the crowd that showed up.

And to his surprise, having to do nerd research the night before actually worked.

He was able to answer most of the questions posed to him by different monsters, and even anticipate what they were gonna ask about based on their species and what kind of area they were from.

Of course, he continued to give things his usual flare, referring to televisions as Idiot Boxes that controlled people’s minds and making himself larger than life and all that, but it was a better-informed flare than it had been.

He also kept an eye peeled for Darlene, or maybe any giant spider people who might show up trying to seek revenge because he’d been defending himself from being eaten by one of their own, but the day passed without him seeing anything with unusual amounts of legs except for that one giant sentient centipede (try saying _that_ three times fast).

* * *

It was a very smugly satisfied Stan Pines who drove home at the end of the day, thinking that he couldn’t wait to see Ford’s face when he saw how much profit he’d brought home today…

...Only for his jaw to drop when, after pouring everything into their respective barrels, he saw that Ford was on an equal level with him now.

It was Ford’s turn to smirk at him, and give a little shrug at his stuttered “H-how-how did you-” before saying, “Sometimes, Stanley, it pays to actually do your research.” And he strode for the stairs.

For a moment Stan just stood there numbly, staring at the equal piles of money and samples. Then his cheeks flooded with red, and his trembling hands closed themselves into fists, and flames practically started burning in the centers of his pupils.

_If Ford thinks he can step up and take this away from me, he’s got another thing comin’._

_I’ll ‘it pays to actually do your research’_ you _, you condescending, stuck-up son-of-a-_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Yeah, no way THIS could possibly backfire big-time at all.  
> Because it's not like these boys ever make horrible decisions when Ford's feeling prideful and Stan's feeling p_ssed off, right?
> 
> ...Right?


	8. Day 3-Showdown

Surprisingly, Stan was late in showing up at the glen the next morning. And his cart was missing.

At once Ford was suspicious-he knew his twin far too well to think he was throwing in the towel and surrendering the bet, so he was definitely up to something.

He was about to go looking for his brother, when a new crowd of tourists began filtering through the trees-even bigger than the ones that had come in the last two days.

_Maybe this was his plan-to try to overwhelm me by making me deal with all of them at once. Nice try, Stanley._

Ford cleared his throat, and drew himself up to his full height like he had when giving presentations in school.

“Greetings, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the Tours of Mystery! I’ll be your host today-”

Before he could continue, his eardrums were nearly imploded by the blare of a horn.

Ford whirled around in time to see Stan come roaring into place in his cart.

Which was now covered in bright red, glittery paint, and had a sign reading “MYSTERY TOURS (™)” on the roof that was decorated with bright, flashing neon lights until it looked like a traveling carnival wagon.

Stan himself was wearing the same suit and fez as usual, but his tie was the same shade of red as the carts, and it looked like some glitter might have gotten splashed on the suit as well. And as he screeched to a halt and leaped out, grinning widely and lifting his arms (which somehow earned him a chorus of cheers from the crowd), Ford noticed that his eyes, though wide and smiling like normal, were also somewhat bloodshot and manic-looking, like he hadn’t gotten anywhere near enough sleep and was trying to make up for it with an overdose of caffeine.

...Not that Ford knew about that from personal experience or anything.

“Howdy, folks!” Stan boomed. “Sorry I’m late, I was getting a few extra things set up for the tour of your lives! I’m your other host, Mr. Mystery, here ta show you befuddlements and wonders the likes of which your kinds have never seen before!”

Ford saw one of his hands twitch, and a few seconds later actual fireworks came bursting from the back of the cart, exploding in the air above them.

The crowd loved it. Ford didn’t.

In fact, he decided he’d finally had it.

“Really, Stanley?!” he demanded over the cheering. “You’re trying to upstage me?”

“Seems like I’m not just _trying_ ,” Stan retorted, folding his arms and grinning. “Face it, Poindexter-I’m better at gaining a crowd’s interest than you are.”

Ford scoffed. “Wow. I’m surprised that you didn’t do something like steal my keys or slash my tires, if you’re sinking low enough to try to sab-”

As soon as the last part left his lips, he realized that _that_ was going too far. His words screeched to a halt.

“No, I-I didn’t mean that-”

* * *

There was no finesse or grace to this next part. In fact, it mostly consisted of them scuffling and shoving each other in the dirt, similar to when they were little and had gotten into one of their rare arguments that was bad enough to devolve into fighting.

Many of the tourists stared at them in confusion...but several loved it.

“Whoa, humans fighting!” exclaimed a new figure in a black hoodie who also may or may not have been a vampire, pushing through the crowd to watch in delight.

“I gotta preserve this for the kids!” An unusually hairy guy pulled out a video camera and pointed it at the fighting brothers.

“My money’s on the bigger one!”

“Nah, the one with the extra fingers! That probably gives him an advantage!”

Oblivious to all this, the brothers wrestled back and forth, one of them enraged beyond words, the other trying ineffectively to placate him.

“Stanley- _stop_ -I wasn’t-”

“The heck you weren’t!” Stan wrestled Ford to the ground, pinning him by the shoulders. “You think I’d do _that_ ta you again? Just because I’m not gonna let you take this away from me doesn’t mean I’m gonna stoop that low!”

Something about the way he said that made Ford tilt his head and frown at him.

“...Take this away?”

Stanley’s rage dissipated a little bit, and his eyes darted to the side.

“N-Nothin’. _You_ wouldn’t understand.”

“Well, not if you don’t _tell_ me.” Ford managed to extricate himself without any struggle on his brother’s part, and sit up, expression open and inviting.

Stan bit his lip, before finally saying, “...I’m just tryna pull my own weight, okay? I’m tryna make sure I’m not leeching off you, and this job is the first thing I’ve found that I was really good at. Something that made _real_ money, where my skills as a liar and cheater were good for somethin’. These people like what I’m selling, and they keep coming back for more, and it’s not even really illegal stuff for the most part, and it’s-it’s _fun_. And you just-all you see is a waste of time ta be gotten rid of.” He sat back, hugging himself uncomfortably.

After a second of processing all this, Ford murmured, “I thought you viewed this whole tours thing as just another con. I didn’t know you felt that way about it.”

Stan snorted. “Yeah, obviously.” Then, with less venom, “But it’s not like I told you.”

“That’s not the point; I should have been able to see it from how much you were enjoying it.” Ford scooted around until Stan was more or less looking at him. “And you’re not leeching off me at all, Stanley-how can you say that? You’ve provided me with more samples of unicorn hair and gnome hair and stuff than I know what to do with! I would never have even _gotten_ unicorn hair if you hadn’t set up your business with them-not to mention you’ve been bringing home actual _gold_! You haven’t been just pulling your weight-you’ve been _surpassing_ me in doing so.”

Stan shrugged a little, but he did look somewhat pacified at the reminder of the gold.

“Sorry about...gettin’ all annoyed when you tried ta correct me about stuff. I know you like it when people have the facts. I just don’t feel like a lot of these jokers are ready for them, ya know?”

“...Yes, you might be right,” Ford admitted.

“Eh, it happens once in a blue moon.”

They smiled a little at each other.

“...So, are we gonna have tours now or what?” yelled a creature that appeared to be a mix between a bear and an owl standing at the edge of the crowd. Several cryptids grumbled in disappointment about the fighting having stopped; another, which looked like a giant bird with the face of an old woman, wiped her eyes on her wing and sniffled, “Reconciliations are so beautiful!”

“Yeah, yeah, keep your fur on!” Stan called back to the owlbear, before getting to his feet and offering Ford a hand up.

Both of them were scraped and bruised, and their clothes and hair were covered in grass and dirt. But Stan went and retrieved his fez, and Ford cleaned off his glasses (thanking heaven that they hadn’t been broken in the fight), and they began organizing who went into which cart.

* * *

After the tours were done for the day, they brought their profits back home, and found Dan sitting on their front porch.

He looked at their disheveled appearances with a raised eyebrow, before finally asking, “...What happened?”

“Accident,” Ford said, at the same moment that Stan said, “Beavers. Giant meat-eating beavers.”

Dan gave an amused grin as he stood up.

“Knowing what this town’s like, I could _almost_ believe that.” He chuckled as they stalked past him inside. “Told ya to fix your issues the manly way.”

The barrels, when they poured the profits into them, were both overflowing.

“...Does that mean we both win, or we both lose?” Stan asked.

“Yes,” Ford said, catching a few gold coins before they could fall to the floor. “So I guess that means we need to come up with a compromise.”

He went on, “I guess the tours can stay.”

“Yes!” Stan punched the air in delight.

“We may need to work out a few extra details later, but yes. They can stay. In the meantime, I believe there were other aspects to the wager…”

The jubilation faded from his brother at once. “Yeah, about that-”

He rushed for the stairs.

“STANLEY!!”

* * *

**Later**

The omelette felt like it was doing weird things to Ford’s tongue; when he finished he’d have to check in the mirror to see if it had been turned to plaid. With a grimace he added more salt and pepper to see if that would make the flavor any better.

Stan came into the kitchen and headed for the fridge, pulling out a can of Pitt.

“How’d it go?” Ford asked after swallowing his mouthful.

Stan shrugged. “Fine.”

“...Just fine? What did he say?”

“Not much.”

“What did you say?”

“...Not much.”

Ford glared at his back. “You hung up after asking to speak to him, didn’t you?”

“Not exactly…” Stan said innocently.

Ford groaned. “What did you say to him?”

Stan popped the tab on the soda. “Pretended to be a telemarketer, and he hung up.”

“Stan-!”

“Hey, you never said anything about me needing ta tell him who I was.” He smirked, and left the kitchen.

Ford rolled his eyes, and finally dumped the rest of the omelette in the trash, figuring if Stan was only going to half keep his side of the deal then he was too.

It wasn’t even that he wanted Stan to try to reconcile with Pa, or be accepted by him again, he mused to himself. Having learned more about what his brother had gone through since being kicked out, he certainly didn’t feel like having a friendly conversation with their father anytime soon; and besides, Pa seemed to have no regrets whatsoever about getting rid of his own son. But…

But it felt like Stan should try to find some kind of closure with him. Even if it was just to tell him to go to hell.

Ford sighed, and washed his dishes in the sink. And then turned his mind to more light-hearted matters, such as figuring out what new attractions to show the supernatural visitors to Gravity Falls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Ford needs some days off to do his research, Stan ends up being the one in charge of most of the tours, with Dan sometimes pitching in too. He also sets up a gift shop in the forest that sells things like abandoned car keys, light switches, and other human stuff that in this context is absolutely useless but that the supernatural creatures go ga-ga over.
> 
> Ford, when he has time to spare, gives classes to monsters who are interested in learning more about human stuff-and he even has to teach some monsters basic skills such as reading and writing, and how to read human signs, which decreases the amount of supernatural roadkill in the area by 50%. He makes more of the brochures, and Stan starts handing them out during his tours too. They're able to make quite a decent profit off their business, and if people in town ask Stan where he and his brother get their money from (after he takes some of the gold to the city and sells it) he says that they had a rich uncle who left them a large inheritance as long as they continue living in Gravity Falls.
> 
> It's funny how effective lies are as long as there's a grain of truth to them. Because after all, they're unlikely to get paid for things in gold and jewels anywhere else.


End file.
